Originally published: June 13, 2012

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I made a mistake in testing the new GTS version of the Panamera. Thinking it just another rendition of the turbocharged Panamera I both track tested and blew up (actually, I merely fragged a turbocharger, but the plume of smoke was spectacular) on a previous track excursion, I decided not to subject the GTS to any abuse. Been there, done that were my exact thoughts and, besides, if another turbo unit went south as I legged it down the back straight of Shannonville Motosport Park, my Porsche connection, the equally lead-footed but more mechanically sympathetic Rick Bye, probably wouldn’t speak to me again. So discretion became the better part of valour.

I really wish I had availed myself of the opportunity to throw this Panamera around. The short take on the GTS is that it is just the Panamera Turbo S sans the turbocharger. Like many such reductivist descriptions, that may capture the GTS’s highlights but not its essence. In point of fact, the GTS is the sportiest Panamera of all and would be my choice were I suddenly to find myself shopping for a four-door Porsche.

First off, there’s the motor. It may have lost two turbochargers compared with the Turbo model, but it gains some high bump cams and other intake mods to increase the normally aspirated 4.8-litre V8’s maximum horsepower to 430. More importantly, it raises the rev ceiling to 7,100, by which time the newly libertarian exhaust (there’s a “Sound Symposer” system, which pipes exhaust noise, er, music directly into the cabin) is positively howling. Let the seven-speed dual-clutch PDK transmission do its work and Porsche says the big Panamera will accelerate to 100 kilometres an hour in just 4.5 seconds and top out just a smidgen below 300 km/h. Seriously, do you need more from a 1,924-kilogram four-door sedan?

The other thing making the GTS distinctly sportier than the Turbo model is that, despite its hot-rodding, the breathed-on 4.8L’s throttle response is far more linear than the Turbo’s. Get any turbocharged car — save perhaps Porsche’s own 911 — mid-corner and that great rush of torque that accompanies the merest brush of the throttle becomes a liability, ready to send tires squealing off line. In the GTS, the throttle seems fairly hot-wired to your synapses, so perfectly attuned is the throttle response. Going fast in a straight line might be the Turbo S’s forte. Maintaining that speed around corners is the GTS’s.

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Of course, it takes more than a responsive engine to scurry around corners and the GTS gets all the upgrades. Besides Porsche’s Active Suspension Management, there’s a Dynamic Chassis Control system that reduces roll during hard cornering by stiffening some active anti-sway bars. The Turbo’s all-wheel-drive system is used complete with its torque vectoring system (which sends power to the wheel appropriate for trajectory and traction) and electronically locking rear differential In the end, the driver controls the basic settings via PASM. Normal, for instance, is full cushy with the suspenders in their softest damping settings. Sport punches things up a notch by making throttle response more immediate and the suspension firmer. Sport + lowers said suspension by 15 millimetres, further firms the shocks and also quiets the insistence of the traction nanny.

In any of the modes, however, there’s a firmness, a seriousness if you will, to the GTS absent in other Panameras. Throw in a set of very tightly bolstered seats and steering seemingly a little more direct than your average performance sedan and the GTS is the first Panamera that feels at least a little like the 911 as its outward shape is supposed to imply. Turn-in is almost 911 quick, body roll, especially in Sport + mode, is almost completely absent and the grip from the 19-inch Michelin Pilots is tenacious. I really do wish I had flogged it at the race track.

Of course, it does have its limitations. Those heavily bolstered adaptive sport seats, for instance, really are tight: I am a skinny guy and still I felt about three French fries away from weight watching myself out of the seat. It also costs a small fortune, its $126,700 base price further augmented by the $6,300 worth of options my tester had added. And even when you’re spending all that money, you still don’t get the ultimate, or at least most easily conveyed, bragging rights. After all, calling your GTS the ultimate Panamera when a Turbo S has 120 more horsepower requires an explanation and, as anyone who’s tried to one-up a barroom BS session knows, qualifiers (such as superior handling, better road feels, etc.) do not a convincing argument make.

Nonetheless, the GTS is the very best of the Panamera, even if it won’t be immediately recognizable to the proletariat.